While they ate, Elizabeth explained what she’d tried to tell him earlier.
“They found no sign of a struggle on Jack’s body. Whoever killed him had to be standing within arm’s length of him, either in front of him or off to the side. Whatever brought him to that alley must have been unusual, and that means he likely would have been on his guard.”
“Aye, true enough.”
“This morning, you told me that the best way to kill a man with a knife is to sneak up behind him and slit his throat.”
“Aye. You take him by surprise, sever his vocal cords and trachea and carotid in one motion. He can’t cry for help and alert others, and he bleeds out quickly.”
Killing was a gruesome business.
She took a sip of her wine, a thoughtful frown on her face. “I don’t think a man like Jack would stand side-by-side with a stranger in an alley in the middle of the night. It’s too sketchy. He probably wouldn’t let a stranger walk right up to him, either. He would maintain some distance. That’s what you’re trained to do, right?”
“Aye.” Quinn saw where she was going with this. “You’re sayin’ the killer had to be someone he knew to get close to him in that environment.”
She nodded. “The killer got close to him and managed to slash at him without giving a seasoned warrior like Jack any sense he was in danger in a situation where most of us would be on edge. I assess that this person was someone he knew, someone who had experience fighting with knives—perhaps someone who knew Jack was wearing body armor that night.”
Ava’s words came back to Quinn, prickles rising along his nape.
If only the killer had tried to stab him in the chest or back instead, he would have had time to react and fight back.
“Aye, the bastard knew right where to sink his blade.”
Elizabeth set her tray aside, leaned back with her glass of wine, her gaze meeting Quinn’s. “I can understand why Wilson is focused on the drug angle. This wasn’t a random robbery and stabbing. It was premeditated. It was personal.”
* * *
Elizabeth watchedQuinn’s face as what she’d said sank in—anger followed by acceptance.
He sipped his whisky. “When I heard how he’d died, where he’d been stabbed, I knew that whoever had killed him hadn’t just meant to incapacitate him and take his money. They wanted him dead. I guess I was right.”
“Yes.” Her heart hurt for him.
“But who would want to kill him?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Quinn’s cell phone buzzed. “It’s Ava.”
Elizabeth went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and to give Quinn some privacy. She could still hear his side of the conversation. The news wasn’t good.
“Thanks for tryin’. Naw, nothin’ yet. Och, Ava, I’m so sorry. There’s got to be an explanation. We’ll do our best to find it—I promise. We spoke wi’ the man who threatened to kill Jack, but he couldnae have done it. She’s certain the killer is someone who knew him. Aye, we will. Thanks.”
Elizabeth left the bathroom to find Quinn staring at the ceiling. “Bad news?”
“The police willnae share information from the investigation wi’ Ava. There’s no file for her to request, no public information.”
“Damn.” But Elizabeth knew that wasn’t all of it. “What else did she say?”
Quinn looked up at Elizabeth, despair in his eyes. “She demanded to know about the toxicology tests. There were no drugs in his system, but they found cocaine and heroin residue on his hands, in his car, and in his jacket pocket.”
“Then itwasdrug-related. I’m so sorry, Quinn.” Elizabeth could only imagine how difficult this was for him.
Nothing hurt more than being disappointed by those you loved.
“I dinnae believe it. There must be an explanation.” Quinn’s faith in his friend touched Elizabeth. “I know how it seems, but Jack wouldnae sell drugs.”
She wouldn’t argue with Quinn, not today anyway. He was grieving. She couldn’t expect him to be objective. That was her job.